Farewell
by Cassie5squared
Summary: Mourning the dead is so much harder on your own. Andromeda may have been disowned, but her grief is just as real as the rest of her family's.
1. Farewell the First

She doesn't dare to try attending the ceremony. Even if she slips in at the back, the rest of the family would notice and turn on her at once, and the last thing she wants is to cause an uproar. She can't even afford to be nearby on the day, not until they're all gone.

So she waits until dusk. She goes alone, because she won't risk her daughter, and Ted doesn't - can't - understand what it means to her. He has never understood why she accepted and reached out to her cousin, after he spent so long rejecting her, and she's never been able to explain. He's only ever wanted to protect her from all the pain... but there are some kinds of pain that nobody can protect her from.

Her breath comes in clouds of mist as she enters the graveyard, as she makes her way towards the Black family tombs, with the wind rustling the leafless trees and the snow crunching softly beneath her feet. She can't help but keep her hand closed tightly around her wand, flinching at every unexpected creak. _There won't be anyone here now,_ she reminds herself, and steels herself as she approaches the the new grave that she knows is empty. The headstone is white marble, naturally. Nothing but the best for the heir of the House of Black.

In the dim light, she can just make out the inscription on the stone. The family crest tops it, and below:

 _Regulus Arcturus Black_

 _Beloved son and nephew_

 _Born 2nd January 1961_

 _Died 12th December 1979_

 _I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith._

12th December 1979. A week ago. Nobody knows for sure that's when he died, but it's when they knew he was gone. His body was never found. She wants to believe it was quick. That he went down fighting. It's the only comfort she can cling to in the middle of this nightmare.

She hesitates as she raises her wand. Lilies might be fitting for death, but they don't seem right for him. Then she recalls Nymphadora showering him with the last of the summer flowers on one of his clandestine visits, after a session of flying tuition on her little broom. The pair of them were laughing and relaxed and safe enough, in her heavily warded garden, for Regulus to drop his guard for a little while and be an adoring "uncle" to her little girl. She even has pictures, though she keeps them hidden; a sight like that was worth getting the camera for.

Her wand whirls through the air, and a bouquet of the golden summer blooms, fragrant and fragile, appears in her hand. She kneels, ignoring the snow already melting through her robes, and lays her little tribute in amongst the mass of flowers already there.

 _Died 12th December 1979._

Regulus, her baby cousin, is dead, and Andromeda cannot hold back her grief any longer. She breaks down, sobbing quietly, begging him to forgive her if she played any part in his death, apologising over and over, saying how much she has loved him all these years -

The warmth of a cloak just taken from someone else's shoulders drapes over her, and she chokes herself off in fright.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. It's just me."

The shock gives way to relief. "I didn't know you were coming," she manages faintly, and lets Sirius help her up before hugging him tightly.

"I didn't know you were, either." He tries for a little grin but there's no energy for it. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"I was just about done," she lies, squeezing him gently before letting go. "I can leave you in peace if you want to -"

"No!" he says sharply, though he instantly softens. "I - I mean, not yet. I just..." There's a visible internal struggle for a while as he gazes at the tombstone, and then suddenly he's clinging to her again, and this time he's the one crying and all she can do is hold him while he lets it out. This is how it's been since it all happened; they've turned to each other because... well, really, they have nobody else. Nobody who understands how much it hurts, in this shattered mess of a family they've got.

"He's my little brother, Andi," he sobs into her shoulder. "I didn't want - I should've - I should've tried harder to -"

"You did try. He was stubborn. Both of you were - we all are - it's something we can't help."

"I _left_ him." The words wrack her with guilt as well, and she hugs him tighter. She walked out on them, too, when they were just children, and left them to the mercies of their family. She can't help but wonder if her actions turned her cousins down their paths; Sirius became more independent of his family, and Regulus became more dependent _on_ them. Maybe that's what drove them apart.

"You couldn't have lived there any longer," she says finally, as his fit of grief begins to subside. "And he wouldn't have gone with you unless you forced him. You were both doing what you thought was right."

"Why couldn't he have seen sense _before_ he joined those murdering bastards?" he croaks, letting go of her at last and letting her wipe his tears away.

"He was young," she says, her voice shaking. "People make a lot of impulsive decisions when they're young. You did. I did."

"He joined _Voldemort_ , Andi."

"And then decided he didn't want to be part of it any more. He saw what he was becoming, and he tried to get out."

"And look how well that went," Sirius retorts bitterly, turning to the grave again. "Stupid, _stupid_ idiot." Even as he speaks, however, the tears begin rolling down his face again. There's silence for a few moments, and Andromeda squeezes his hand gently. It's all she can do.

"I'm sorry, Reg," he says finally, and there's a crack in his voice. "I'm sorry. I mean it. I should've straightened things out with you. I should've been there... but I - I won't let them get away with this."

Andromeda gulps back her own tears, and pushes away the thought that the war could take him too.

As the last daylight fades, leaving them standing in a semi-darkness where she can barely make out his outline, Sirius heaves a sigh and turns away. "We should probably go," he says quietly. "Unless you want to stay a bit longer?"

"No, I'm fine," she replies, and keeps hold of his hand as they make their way very carefully back out of the cemetery. "If you'd like, you can come back to my house. Ted won't mind, and Nymphadora certainly won't."

"Thanks, but James's been fussing over me all week and he made me promise I'd drop in when I was done." He makes a rueful face, but there's a hint of a smile in there, and she feels a little glow of warmth all over again for the boy who took Sirius in when he desperately needed it.

"That's fine by me. Just as long as you've got someone." As they leave, the gate clicking shut behind them,she sighs. "We're going to get through this," she says softly. "One way or another."

"I know. And... thanks for staying with me. I don't think I could've done it alone." There's a wobble for a moment, but he's hitched up his confident face again and she knows he's going to hold onto that. The shields never stay down for long.

"Any time," she says, and they both know she means it. Before things can get too emotional again, she leans up and kisses his cheek. "Come and see us soon, all right? Nymphadora's going to want to see you and make sure you're safe." That's true, but she also knows he'd do anything for her daughter and bringing her into it will just make extra sure.

"Promise." He enfolds her in a bearhug for a moment, then steps back. "See you later, Andi. Take care."

"You too." They share one last smile, and then part ways. The grief's still there, but as long as they have each other, it's bearable.


	2. Farewell the Second

_Another eternal goodbye, and Andromeda's not alone this time - but that doesn't mean it's any less painful._

* * *

They call it a funeral, but it's really more of a memorial service. There's nothing to bury, after all. Sirius's last fight claimed him body and soul.

There aren't many people to attend, either, Andromeda thinks as the little party gathers around the empty grave in the misty churchyard. She doesn't know most of them, but Nymphadora does; they're all from the Order, the few who knew of Sirius's innocence, and that is enough for his cousin.

One stately figure who definitely _is_ known to her is the tall, dignified person of Minerva McGonagall. The formidable Transfiguration teacher has always been someone Andromeda respects, and she has the suspicion that for all his complaints, Sirius had a soft spot for his Head of House. Now, however, the stern professor is visibly struggling to keep her composure as she takes her place; her handkerchief is noticeably damp already.

The only other person Andromeda really knows is Remus Lupin, who looks more desolate and worn than ever. Her heart goes out to him; nobody deserves the kind of suffering he's had to go through, especially not the heartbreak of losing his best friend again. She can't help hoping that maybe Nymphadora will get through to him soon. He deserves a little happiness.

When everyone has taken their place, the simple little service begins. Nobody is in the mood for an elaborate ceremony, and it's not as though he would have wanted some huge, pompous affair anyway. There are plenty of tears shed, though; Sirius was deeply loved by the family he made for himself, and his absence is all the more painful because there is no possible return this time.

Once it's over, the mourners drift away in ones and twos through the thickening mist, until Andromeda is left alone. She shivers as the chill of the fog soaks into her bones, and kneels down beside the grave, not quite ready to tear herself away yet.

The marker itself is made of simple grey stone, the colour of his eyes, and the lettering on it is picked out in silver. She chose it herself - the last gift she can ever give him - and although she had asked Remus for suggestions for the inscription, he had declined, saying it should be up to her. With a quiet sigh, she reads over it again.

 _Sirius Orion Black_

 _Born 3rd November 1959_

 _Died 18th June 1996_

 _A brave man and deeply loved._

 _May he find the peace he deserved._

 _Merlin knows he deserved more peace than he ever got in life._ She traces the first line of the carvings, tears rolling down her face in silence. She doesn't have the energy to cry any harder.

 _Is this worth all your pride,_ she wants to scream at her ancestors. _Is your precious pure blood worth death after death until you sicken even your own children? Until your name is wiped out? Is the ending of the Black name more honourable than its purity?_

The Black name is gone, the family line ended. Though she was disowned so many years ago, it's still a shattering realisation. _Her family is gone._

There is nobody left from her childhood who knows and loves her, any more. She and her sisters are all that remain, and as far as she knows they want her dead. It's an ache almost unbearable, and the tears keep falling.

She doesn't try to stop them.

There's no telling how long she stays there, until the quiet crunch of gravel and the drape of a cloak over her shoulders snaps her to attention - and for a moment, back seventeen years to the last time she knelt mourning by a grave.

"It's probably time to come home, Andi."

She gulps and nods. Of course it's not the same person - but it's someone she trusts and loves nonetheless. Ted helps her stand, and offers her a hug, which she gratefully accepts. He's a solid, reliable figure in the grey, shifting world around them. "How long have I been out here?" she mumbles into his shoulder.

"Over half an hour. Dora's starting to get fidgety. You know she doesn't like the idea of you being off on your own somewhere this quiet."

"I think she forgets which of us is the mother here."

He chuckles and leans his head on hers. "Better she cares than not, right?"

"I suppose." She remains still for several long moments, drawing strength and warmth from him. Ted's always been there, though every heartbreak; he's her rock, and she needs him more than ever now. "It's not _fair_ ," she says finally as she straightens up. It sounds childish, but it's true. It isn't fair that Sirius spent his whole life fighting, and will never get to enjoy the peace he spent so long fighting for. It isn't fair that he had everything he loved taken away from him. It isn't fair that he never got to become the man he should have been, and instead became a half-broken shell tormented by his failures.

It isn't fair that she couldn't save him.

Ted doesn't reply; there's nothing he can say that can make this any better. The squeeze of his hand on her shoulder and the sympathetic look in his eyes says everything he can't, though, and that's enough. She gives him a grateful, tremulous smile, and he wipes away her tears with his thumb. Then they turn and walk away from the empty grave together.

The House of Black is ended. But as long as she's alive, it will not be forgotten.


End file.
